


Family

by truedi



Series: Fictober 2019 [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Clint died during Endgam, Drinking, F/M, Fictober 2019, it's a little sad ngl, no sexy stuff, not overly romantic but I tagged the pairing nonetheless, only talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 11:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20891225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truedi/pseuds/truedi
Summary: Fictober 2019 Day 4 Prompt 4: I know you didn't ask for this.In the aftermath of the fight against Thanos, old relationships have to be severed, new ones have to be established, and trust has to be rebuild in the team. Everybody fights with their own regrets, doubts and hopes, but sometimes it can be nice to talk it out. Natasha comes back from one of her most hurtful "missions" when Bucky suggests it is time to empty some bottles.





	Family

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little mess but everything during Fictober is. For me at least.

Natasha parked on the sidewalk across an abandoned mall when she started to burst into tears. The sobs shook her body violently and she slammed the wheel as if letting out her frustration would make the past come undone. Though even if intense, her moment of vulnerability could not have lasted longer than 5 minutes. She did not allow herself more. When the immediate feeling ebbed, she stopped altogether, started the car and returned to the base. 

She silently stood in the elevator as it rushed past the lower floors of the Avengers tower. It was a little run down after most people had vanished for the past years but was otherwise intact. Everybody had moved into their designated floors as soon as the fight was over. One half to have a home again, the other to hide from the aftermath of what they had been through. 

With a ding! the elevator halted. Natasha was 10 floors away from her solitude. In her mind, she cursed the one who made her have interpersonal contact when she felt like this. She was usually good at hiding her feelings but a look into the mirrored elevator wall told her that red puffy eyes were a dead giveaway. 

It was Barnes. He came from the gym. 

Natasha gave him a quick smile and scooted over even when the room was already spacey enough for the both of them.  
It was one tragedy after another these past days. Almost immediately after the fight, Steve had been sent back to return the stones, returned as an old fart merely 5 mins later, and had decided to give his shield to Sam. He had retired for good. Natasha was happy for him to have lived his life, but a tiny part of her had wished he had stayed. It was just another friend she had lost. Only now, he had not died but had chosen to abandon her. She knew he did not mean it like that. She hoped she knew. She could not imagine what Barnes must have felt like. He was not weak in any way, but her own feelings made her empathize with him in regard to having lost a friend. Having lost Steve.

“Are we going to see you the next days or are you gonna hide like the rest of us.” His voice was calm, no sense of emotion whatsoever. Simple information exchange was better than emotive small talk, Natasha thought. 

“What else would I do. I was out today. We better spend some more days indoors. The media is fueling up, looking for people to interview. It’s just going to be annoying.” 

Barnes nodded. 

“How did they take it?” 

Natasha froze, desperately trying to hold her feelings down. This was not information exchange anymore and she did not appreciate him trying to…console her. 

“Fine. What had to be done was done,” she said in Russian knowing he would understand not only the language but also her intention behind it. It was a cold tone and from what she knew, he associated it with no further questions needed to be asked and this was an order.

“You’re welcome to join me for drinks if you feel like it,” he responded equally coldly in Russian. 

The elevator stopped and opened its doors so that Barnes was able to get out. He did not turn around, but Natasha was not following him either. The doors closed and she was elated to be by herself as her eyes began to get hot again. 

Wine in hand, Natasha looked out on the skyline of what was still functional of New York. There were lights here and there and it was indeed incredible how quickly the people were working to regain the modern life. It was noticeable that the other half of the world had returned. Farmers started working again, second-hand stores and garage sales were prominent. People exchanged their limited goods the best they could. But it did not bring back the ones they had lost. 

TV channels weren’t running yet except for one that was merely news and updates. She had already taken a bath, but it had not helped washing of her grief. Her wine was emptying.  
Natasha decided to give in to Barnes’ invite. After all, they shared a friend. They shared grief.

She had barely rung the doorbell when he had opened. Wordlessly, he let her in. There was no warmth in being welcomed like that. He knew like Natasha that she came for a reason. He went straight to the small bar that was attached to his kitchen area and poured her a drink. When she smelled the whiskey, she turned her nose up. 

“Not your thing?”, he asked but she took the glass from him and downed it in one go. 

“Not really, but it works. Gin?” 

“Got vodka.” 

“How stereotypical.”

“Rum?” 

“Sure.” 

He took her glass and refilled it with some old rum he had precisely found in his cupboard. Then he refilled his own with more whiskey. 

By the time the clock struck midnight, they were buzzed. They had mostly sat next to each other and drunk in silence until someone had spoken up. This time, it was Natasha. 

“Sam sure looks comfortable with that shield.” She was on her fifth glass of gin with a little wine here and there. Barnes even smiled a little. The conversation continued in Russian. 

“He’ll do well. What else…” 

“Steve probably had his reasons – “, she assumed before he interrupted her. 

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t give it to an ex-terrorist either. People wouldn’t feel safe.” 

She thought about that for a while. Was that why he did not give it to Barnes? It made sense but it left a sour feeling in her mouth. The Winter Soldier had redeemed himself in her eyes. He maybe was not as stable as Sam but Russian soldier or American soldier: the difference was minuscule in her eyes. 

“You’re a good man, Barnes,” the man on the other end of the couch scoffed, “I know you didn’t ask for this. But you might as well get used to your new role as an Avenger. Even if some might hate you.” 

“You know all about it, huh.” He took a sip of his whiskey. It was already diluted with ice water. 

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I do.” 

Natasha wondered if he would ever ask her to leave. How long could they sit here and wallow in self-pity together? It should get tiring after a while. But they had nowhere to be in the morning. Nowhere to be for the next days. So, she decided it was a good thing to use the spare time. If she wouldn’t get tired, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. 

Barnes shuffled in his seat. He did not look at her when he asked her again: “How did they take it?”

Now slightly buzzed, she felt comfortable to answer. She also had no mental capacity to waste on holding back anymore. 

“Was horrible… I don’t know. I lost a friend. She lost a husband.” She coughed to distract from her shaky breath. Barnes heard it anyway. 

“They don’t deserve this. I don’t have a family. I should have been sacrificed. If I would have just been…faster.” 

She saw him nod in the darkness. Somehow, it made her feel better that he agreed. She wasn’t pitying herself. What was a woman like her to a man that had a wife, kids, a home to come back to? He was her friend. She had not just failed as a friend but as an assassin. She had not been quick enough to outrun him, to outsmart him, that bastard.  
“I guess,” Barnes started, “he knew you didn’t ask for this, but he wanted you to be able to make that kinda life for yourself. Give you a chance…”

“Then he miscalculated. Do you see any of us ever having a normal life?” 

“Steve managed.” 

“Steve had to travel back in time for that. Change his ways,” she answered bitterly, “He already had someone waiting for him.” 

Barnes sat up and reached out for her glass which she gave him. He left her on the couch to go over and refill their drinks. She listened intently to the pouring. 

He cleared his throat: “We’ll be waiting for you when you are out on missions. Is that any less good?” 

She could hear from his tone that he was genuinely interested as if he clung to the idea that fellow soldiers were family. For her, most of the friends she had been bonding with was through traumatic events. She did not consider this as special and precious a bond as love between two people who connected nothing but their interest in each other. She decided to lighten the mood. 

“Not if you bake me a pie every time I come home.” 

It failed. 

“My rum is empty. That’s your last.” He reached over her shoulder and she took the glass carefully. Then, downed it. He did not commend and continued to drink his whiskey sip for sip. Silently, they agreed to keep their mouths shut. The darkness was swallowing them. She wondered if they were so still that if someone walked into the room, they would even see the two assassins. She had never known someone drink as quietly as Barnes, but when he did so right in that moment, it sounded like thunder in a rainless night. 

She rose from her seat. It was time to go. To her surprise, Barnes got up with her. He did not interfere, he simply wanted to escort her out. She sat down her glass on the bar counter. There was a bit of rum left in the bottle next to her. 

“Thanks for the booze,” she said. He was right next to her. 

“Sure. Come by if you need more.” 

She looked up to him as he opened the door for her. When he noticed her eyes on him, he gave her a smile. 

“I mean it. You better start seeing us as family. I know I’m having a hard time with it but Natasha,” it was the first time that night that he used her name. It caught her attention.

“You can start with one person at a time. Drinking or not. See you tomorrow.” 

With that he closed the door in front of her. Natasha stood there for a moment processing his invite. If that could have been called one. For a second she was offended that he would assume she would just be running back to him for another therapy session. As if she did not know what to do with herself. Then, she softened. She did not need to go. Maybe she would. It was nice feeling light-headed. And if they spoke Russian, no one would listen. It would be between them. It was safe in the darkness on the sofa, in front of that bar with that cheap booze. In front of this man who was looking for a family as much as she had always done. Even if it was in vain, they could pretend. Make up this narrative of closeness and comradery. Maybe she would enjoy the game. Play the role for as long as it was fun. 

When she settled on her own couch, she felt her head spinning. She looked out on the skyline once more. Imagined all these families living in their apartments. She wished she could be one of them. She wished none of this apocalypse had ever happened. But she could build a new life now. She wondered if she was capable enough for that. She wondered if she should bring food tomorrow night.


End file.
